24 Karats of Misfortune
by Courier999
Summary: The Mojave Wasteland is a harsh place, as the courier known as Harleen Pierce knows. But what's stopping her from getting behind the mystery of the mysterious chip she's carrying and determining the fate of Mojave? Covers base game and DLCS. Rated T for violence, scary content, sexual themes/innuendos, and foul language. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

FALLOUT: 24 Karats of Misfortune

_Fallout: New Vegas_ is property of Bethesda Softworks.

Chapter 1: Execution

The still and arid air of the Mojave was oppressive on Harleen Pierce as she knelt before a shallow rectangular hole in the ground upon a hill. Before her was a man in a checkered suit, taking another deep breath as he smoked his cigarette. Near him were two representatives of the Great Khans, each holding a super sledge. A third was staring down the hill with a pair of binoculars.

"One last time, baby doll. Gimme the package, and I'll let ya go." the suited man began.

"How about you try and suckle from a gecko?" Harleen replied.

The suited man frowned upon hearing the courier's response. Before he could make any sort of comeback, the lookout yelled.

"NCR patrol! On horses! Three miles from here!"

The suited man raised a 9mm pistol, aimed it at Harleen's head, and fired. The courier fell into the hole, apparently dead.

"You two, start filling in the hole."

The two Khans with super sledges shrugged their shoulders as they piled dirt upon the remains of the courier.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

And with that, the three Khans and their employer ran off into the night, unaware that their victim wasn't quite dead…

Meanwhile, two NCR troopers on horseback were approaching the small town of Goodsprings. Their names were George O'Neil and Zachary MacGregor, and they weren't exactly thrilled to be where they were.

"Patrolling the Mojave makes you wish for a nuclear winter." O'Neil muttered.

"Ya know, whoever came up with that shoulda been shot. Come to think of it, why did we get sent to this wasteland?"

"MacGregor, the Mojave Territory is a vital buffer zone between the NCR and the forces of Caesar's Legion. If it falls, those bastards'll have a direct route to the NCR and thus take us out."

"But we aren't fighting the Legion. No, we got stuck with patrolling for bandits and escaped Powder Gangers in this forsaken stretch of the territory!"

"Zach, we're lucky the LT sent us here after you…coupled with his daughter. It was either this or get sent to a frontier post near the Vancouver Territory."

MacGregor's eyes went wide in terror as mental images of mind-numbing days and weeks spent in an isolated outpost in the middle of nowhere passed by.

"Zach?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's stop for the night. We'll be able to cover more ground that way."

MacGregor nodded as he rode his horse into a small town. As they passed by, he noticed an old sign. The paint was peeling, but he could still make out the original message:

**WELCOME TO GOODSPRINGS, NEVADA.**

The two rode up to the local saloon, hitched their horses, and entered.

"Evenin', gents." the bartender piped up, her voice still comforting despite hoarseness caused from years of life in the Mojave.

"Evenin', ma'am." O'Neil replied as he took his seat.

"What'll it be?"

"What's on the list, miss-"

"Name's Trudy."

"Anyways, what's to drink, Trudy?" MacGregor asked.

"Some of the local stock, if you like wasteland brews. Got some Old World stuff too, but I wouldn't drink it if I was you."

"Why not?"

"Last guy who drank some of the Old World stock didn't drink it again. He was a big guy, one of the Great Khans. Bet me a couple hundred caps he could drink it all down. I got two hundred caps that night."

"Er-" MacGregor began.

"So, made up your minds yet?"

"I'll take a wasteland tequila." O'Neil volunteered.

"Local brew." MacGregor whimpered.

Out on the cemetery hill, a large robot shaped like an old television set and mounted on one wheel rolled up to the graveyard.

"And they said to me, Victor, you oughta be the mayor of Goodsprings. And I said to them, na, sheriff's a good job-"

Just then, Victor's photoreceptors noticed the newly-dug grave.

"Well, I'll be. I didn't miss a funeral, did I?"

Victor knelt his torso, extended his arms, and began digging. It was only a matter of moments before he found a fresh body. His photoreceptors picked up to the subtle movements of the body's chest.

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit! Looks like someone's tried to get rid of a body-"

Victor grabbed the unearthed body and darted down the hill.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Ain't That A Kick in the Head

"Good. You're awake."

Harleen groggily rose from the cot she now found herself on as sunlight passed through the windows.

"Buh…"

She looked up and saw a kindly old man sitting next to the cot.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"H-h-h-Harleen-" she stuttered.

The old man scribbled this down.

"W-w-w-what happened?"

"You got a bullet through your brain, missy. You're lucky you're still alive."

Harleen nodded as the old man helped her hobble over to a Vigor Tester machine. After measuring up, she hobbled over to the old man's couch.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"They call me Doc Mitchell."

Harleen nodded as she flopped down on the couch. Doc Mitchell then began a series of psychological tests.

"Can I go now?" she asked at the conclusion of the tests.

"Well, don't want you running about as is."

Harleen looked in the nearest mirror and saw she was in little more than a medical gown.

"Here, take these."

Doc Mitchell extended a small bundle to the courier, who unfolded it into a blue-and-yellow jumpsuit with a big "21" on the back.

"That was my wife's from when we were kids. Grew up in a Vault, we did. It was about your size, so why not give it to you?"

Harleen went into Doc Mitchell's bathroom and changed into her new clothes. The cheap synthetic fibers of the Vault-issue bra and panties rubbed against her skin, irritating it.

"I swear gecko hide's more comfortable than this-" she muttered as she finished zipping up the jumpsuit.

She exited the bathroom and saw Doc Mitchell offer her another thing.

"It's my old Pip-Boy. 3000A model. Comes with built-in flashlight, tunable radio, area map, Geiger counter, med delivery system, and VATS capability."

Harleen grinned at the last one, remembering her last job:

_"Watch this." the man boasted._

_Harleen was dumbfounded as the empty whiskey bottle tumbled into the air, only to be disintegrated into minute shards of glass as her companion's pistol shots hit it in a symphony of gunfire and the sound of breaking glass._

_"How'd you do it?" a bystander asked._

_"I'm from a Vault. Chalk it up to the Virtually Aided Targeting System_."

Just then, reality caught back up, and Harleen put the Pip-Boy on her arm.

"Thank you, doctor."

"Any time, little lady."

And with that, Doc Mitchell gave her a 9 mm pistol and some rounds.

"See you."

Harleen left the house and staggered into the town of Goodsprings. As the sun shone in her eyes, she staggered off to find someplace to get some food and drink. On the horizon, she saw the sign of the Prospector Saloon.

_Good a place as any._

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Here are Harleen's stats:

Strength: 7

Perception: 9

Endurance: 7

Charisma: 7

Intelligence: 8

Agility: 8

Luck: 8

(Yes, I am aware that you can't have all those exact status from the get-go, but since I don't have to worry about balancing a game, I can do this sort of stuff.)

Tag skills: Guns, Sneak, Lockpick, Science, Survival


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Courier Needs Drink Badly

"Mornin'." Harleen muttered as she walked into the local saloon.

Idling up to the bar, she saw two NCR Rangers sitting on the stools.

"Hey…what's that?" one of them asked.

"O'Neil, I think you've had a bit too much."

"I'll tell you when I've had enough, MacGregor! Hey, bartender! Gimme 'nother round of agave wine!"

Harleen rolled her eyes as she took her seat and Trudy approached.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"Got any work for a poor capless girl around here?"

Trudy whistled, and a young woman approached.

"Sunny, we've got a visitor looking for work. Give her a rifle, head out to the ridge, and bag some geckos."

Harleen turned to her new coworker.

"Sunny Smiles."

"Harleen Pierce."

The two shook hands and proceeded to leave the saloon.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Sunny Smiles, Sunny Weather

"So, what do you do, miss Pierce?"

"Call me Harleen."

Sunny was taken aback by Harleen's response. She didn't expect her to have such a clear and crisp voice despite her toned body betraying her time out in the wilds.

"Anyways…Harleen, what is your job?"

"Courier. Used to run freelance, but I signed up with Mojave Express a few years ago."

"Where've you travelled to?"

"I've gone from Baja to the Vancouver Territory, if that's what you mean."

She flicked out her passport, and Sunny whistled.

"You've really been around, haven't you?" she asked.

Harleen nodded before reaching for a pair of binoculars.

"What are you doing?" Sunny asked.

Harleen put her fingers to her lips and pointed. Beneath the two were several geckos.

"Oh."

The courier went prone, lined up her varmint rifle's sights, and fired. A gecko dropped dead. Four more shots. Four more geckos fell.

"How'd you do that?"

"I've practiced this stuff before. Now then, ever had fresh gecko meat?"

"No…"

Harleen slid down the ridge to the carcasses.

"Got a knife?" she asked Sunny.

Sunny descended the ridge and handed Harleen a knife.

"That'll do."

The courier took the knife and began to butcher the dead geckos, while Sunny built a fire. Within minutes, strips of gecko meat were being smoked upon the fire.

"Should be done by sundown." Harleen murmured.

Sunny tapped her on the shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"What are you going to do with all that meat?"

"Take some for the road and sell the rest to that saloon owner."

"I'm sure Trudy'll appreciate that, but can I take some to Ringo?"

Harleen paused.

"You got a special someone?" she asked.

"Ringo and I aren't in a relationship."

"That's what they all say."

"Look, Ringo's a caravaneer. Crimson Caravans. He's hiding from the Powder Gangers-"

Harleen perked up.

"Powder Gangers, eh?"

Sunny tilted her head.

"What do you know about Powder Gangers?" she asked.

"More than you do. For one thing, they're usually high as a kite on whatever chems you can think of. Also, who's the leader of the bunch hounding your friend?"

"Guy named Joe Cobb-"

Harleen paused.

"I'll be damned. Old Joe Cobb's back in town."

"You know him?"

"Know him? He tried to kill me in New Reno after I caught him violatin' a girl about your age."

Sunny gulped.

"Sunny, if I were you, I'd get the hell out of Goodsprings. The Powder Gangers'll try and overrun this town."

"Not without a fight on our part." Sunny vowed.

"Then sign me up." Harleen replied.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Names and Faces

"So, what's your story?" Sunny asked as she and the courier walked back to Goodsprings.

"What's there to say? I ran packages for whoever was paying. What do you do?" came Harleen's response.

"You said you ran packages. Why the past tense?"

Harleen lifted her short blond hair up and pointed to a small scar.

"Guy in a daisy suit shot me right here."

Sunny's jaw dropped.

"And you're still alive?"

"Thanks to your Doc Mitchell. That, and rage is a hell of anesthetic."

"What he'd shoot you over?"

Harleen shrugged.

"You were _executed_." Sunny shouted.

"Not the first time I've been left for dead."

"What do you mean by that?"

Harleen turned to Sunny.

"Kid, you've never seen the wasteland up close. There's people who'll kill ya just for looking at them funny, or because you have better stuff than they do, or just because they get their kicks that way."

"Surely there's something good out there, right?" Sunny asked.

"If there is, I haven't seen it yet. For all I know, for every one good person out in the wastes, there's an army of psychos, bandits, fiends, and what-have-yous right behind."

"Jaysus, MacGregor! Watch what yer doin'!"

MacGregor sighed as he pulled the shards of broken bottle out of his companion's face.

"O'Neil, maybe that'll teach you to fight a known Powder Ganger when he's as drunk as you."

"But he- he- he-"

"He what?"

"He said that I was a just another drunk NCR tool-"

O'Neil began blubbering.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Ghost Town Gunfight

"I'll say this one more time- hand over Ringo, and my boys'll spare your town."

Harleen and Sunny walked into the Prospector Saloon to find Trudy being threatened by one of the Powder Gangers.

"You Joe Cobb?" Harleen asked.

The man turned around.

"What if I am?"

"The caravaneer isn't worth it. Get out of this town." Harleen ordered.

Cobb flashed out a switchblade and charged. Harleen drew her 9 mm pistol, activated VATS, and watched as the virtual assists outlined Cobb's body and her chance of hitting each part. Before Cobb could close the gap between him and the courier, his switchblade went flying out of his hands.

"What the-"

Harleen holstered her pistol.

"This means war!" Cobb shouted.

"Good. I need the practice." Harleen snarked.

She turned around and saw Sunny and Trudy staring at her as if she were stark raving mad.

"Now we're doomed." Sunny remarked.

"Not if I can help it." Trudy replied.

She pointed at the courier.

"Rally the town. Tell everyone to get their gun and start shooting."

Harleen nodded as she ran out of the saloon and began running door-to-door. Within an hour, the populace of Goodsprings was standing near the Prospector Saloon with their rifles in hand.

"So, you've kicked the hornet's nest?"

"That's right, Ringo."

The caravaneer grinned as he and Sunny Smiles dined upon the smoked gecko she had brought.

"Your friend's got some _cajones_, I'll give her that."

"Shut up and eat." Sunny mock-ordered.

"Yes, miss Smiles."

The two laughed at their little joke before Sunny got up and left.

A few miles out of town, the Powder Gangers made the final preparations for their assault on Goodsprings.

"Jensen, you and Dahl are goin' in first. Mop out any resistance. Remember, any chems, caps, guns, ammo, and women are yours for the taking." Cobb barked.

Dahl and Jensen nodded as they raised syringes to their necks and pushed the plungers, sending a cocktail of Psycho, Med-X, Jet, and all manner of homemade chems flooding into their veins.

"Powder Gangers, attack!"

"Here they come!" Harleen yelled as the Powder Gangers rushed forward.

The assembled townsfolk raised their guns and fired, sending the first wave of Powder Gangers toppling like dominos.

"Fire!"

Another salvo of gunfire rang out. Just then, Joe Cobb and four Powder Gangers made a final charge at the firing line. Harleen ran out to meet them, pistol in hand.

"Now you're gonna die!"

As Cobb lunged at the courier, she activated VATS, tagged his head, and fired, watching as the bullets pierced his skull. When it was over, Cobb's lifeless body hit the dusty ground.

"_La bruja! _Retreat!" a Powder Ganger yelled.

A final salvo of gunfire picked off any stragglers.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: On the Road Again

"Not bad for a dead woman." Doc Mitchell commented, gesturing to the courier.

"Thanks." Harleen replied.

Just then, Victor rolled up.

"Howdy, pardner! Nice to see you're fit as a fiddle after takin' a bullet to the brainpan!"

"What do you want, robot?"

"Just wanted to tell ya that I saw a guy in some kind of daisy suit leave with a trio of Great Khans leave town the night I found you in a shallow grave in the town cemetery."

Harleen perked up.

"Where'd they go?"

Sunny walked up.

"Nearest town from here is Primm. Somebody's probably seen them there."

One of the townsfolk walked up.

"Here. Found these lying by that fresh grave. Must've been yours."

He handed the courier a bundle.

"You'll need it more than I."

Harleen opened the bundle sifted through its contents: a filter mask, a pair of goggles, a hunting knife and whetstone, bottles of water, a bedroll, a fire-starter, and an unassembled still.

"Thanks."

And with that, she left Goodsprings.


End file.
